


If I'm Lucky

by miilkteeth



Series: Songs prompts [8]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Yogscast
Genre: M/M, also barry, bc my fav meme, but can it be happy????, sad lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miilkteeth/pseuds/miilkteeth
Summary: "But you know that I'm looking for more than a pretty smile,And if I'm lucky you can stay for a while,But if you stay or if you go I'm just hanging on again."https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lgu3KGY_4iI (song)





	If I'm Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with more writing. this one was inspired by if i'm lucky by state champs which is a beaut song honestly,, go and listen its sooo good.   
> ALSO THANKS 2 VEX AND WHEELIE BIN 4 HELP WITH THIS ONE I STARTED IT FOREVER AGO LOL and only just finished it

Sunshine. That’s how it had all begun. The one light in his otherwise pretty miserable life of jumping from job to job, editing for this, filming for that; whatever he could find really. Living in a one bedroom flat in some shithole where the neighbours had parties every night and he’d get woken up at 3 am by screaming outside his window.

His luck seemed to be on the down, that was until he took that one job he’d never forget. A short film that they needed some help with when it came to camera work. He’d emailed the address left on the advert found by chance, and prayed it wasn’t a scam like the last few jobs. Send some money over for “venue hire” and then never hear from them again. It had happened more often than he would like to admit, but still went along with it anyway.

The meeting went well and the actors in it seemed great to work with, not stuck up at all. One of them stuck in his mind the most; a tall, bearded man who instantly made him feel welcome. Their first conversation had him captivated. The man introduced himself as, “Alex Smith, but most people just call me Smith.”

“Chris Trott, or Trott, or whatever, I don’t mind really,” Trott spoke, clearly a bit flustered by Smith, who replied with a smile like the sun.

The rest of the cast introduced themselves, but Trott’s mind constantly wandered back to Smith. Whenever they needed to film a scene, they would bump into each other - literally on Trott’s part. Every other person could see that each time they spoke their eyes lit up and beaming smiles would appear.

Sadly, though, the filming had to end and Trott was back to his life of jumping around from set to set. He never did forget Smith but always regretted never exchanging phone numbers or something to stay in touch.

When he next found himself behind the camera on the set of some low-budget, student film where he got paid in pretzels and little snacks in Ziploc bags, he saw a familiar brown haired man stuffing his face with pringles in the corner.

“Smith?” Trott said too enthusiastically as he approached.

“Trott!” Smith attempted to reply but it came out with a spray of pringle crumbs. He quickly realised what he’d done and swallowed the rest before continuing with, “Fancy seeing you here! What are you doing?”

Trott jerked his thumb back towards the camera, “Just, you know, filming stuff.”

“So you do this often then?” Smith asked.

“Yeh, it’s sort of a hobby of mine…” Trott trailed off, not wanting to admit that the majority of what he “earned” was payment like this; snacks and free lifts home.

“Me too, well, it’s just a bit of extra money on the side, I actually work at B&Q,” he looked down, seeming like he didn’t really want to say that. 

Trott picked up on it and went off on one. “I love B&Q! All that, paint and construction, and other things they do.”

“I can tell, you clearly look like you’re into that construction,” Smith teased as Trott blushed heavily.

“Yeah! Love it, wood, and shit,” he tried to joke before hearing what he actually said.

Smith broke into fits of laughter, “You love wood then?”

The other man blushed again and blurted out, “No! No I don’t!”

“How could you lie me Chris Trott?” Smith mocked hurt but before Trott could interject, he held up a hand and said, “Nope, you’ve already hurt me. How could you lie about loving wood.”

Trott rolled his eyes and walked off to go and film, a hint of a smile still on his face. After they were finished, Smith invited him out to get some food. A small diner at the side of the town kept them for the night as they laughed over burgers and baskets of chips, making their way around various bars together. Their memories seemed to get hazier the more the night went on.

By the time morning rolled around, Trott found himself hanging off the side of a couch at an awkward angle in a small apartment he didn’t recognise to be his own. One arm was slung around a bowl and his other arm was brushing against the floor. He jolted up and immediately saw Smith leaning against a tiny kitchen counter.

“Nice bowl you’ve got there,” he joked, nodding his head towards what Trott was cuddling.

“How?” Trott began to say, feeling his head begin to ache, “How did I get here? And why?”

Smith let out a snigger, remembering the events of the previous night. “You said your apartment was on the other side of town, so I offered you a place here and you found an empty bowl. For some reason you took a bit of a liking to it.”

“Right, right.”

“You kept going on about me having a pretty smile as well,” Smith smirked over his coffee mug, watching Trott’s facial expression drop and his cheeks turn a shade of bright red. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was cute.”

Trott’s state of embarrassment continued as he got up. He quickly gathered all his things, this time Smith reminded him they still hadn’t got each other’s phone numbers and so spent some time doing that, then left to go back to his apartment.

For the next few months, Trott and Smith managed to see each other a lot. Occasionally bumping into each other on film sets, meeting for coffee or having film marathons in their apartments. Their friendship became more than just that, spending long nights together in the city. Smith let Trott in on his surprising musical talents and they would sometimes go up to Smith’s rooftop, sitting under the stars as Trott let himself be serenaded, finally happy. To Trott, he wasn’t just a pretty smile; he was his sunshine. Smith lit up his day and if either of them had anything to talk about, the other would always listen.

After various nights together, the two were basically living with each other at Trott’s. Smith had two drawers full of his own clothes, had a spare charger, pairs of shoes and even some bowls from his kitchen. 

Everything seemed perfect; they were content with how it was.

Despite his romantic life going well, Trott was still bouncing around from job to job, although it seemed a bit more bearable now. Smith had quickly realised that these films weren’t a hobby, and Trott couldn’t seem to find a permanent placement. They would sometimes spend nights arguing about how he needed something to help him and he couldn’t live like this forever, then it would be forgotten the next day. Underlying tensions were always there but neither of them wanted to mess up the good thing they had.

One night in mid-November, about 7 months after they’d started seeing each other officially, Trott got invited to a night out after finishing filming by one of the main actors. They all piled into a shitty bar in town and there were drinks for everyone. Trott’s phone had been going crazy, thanks to Smith, but he was to out of it to notice. The actor who’d asked him out seemed pretty adamant on buying Trott a drink or two. They’d been dancing and talking all night about hobbies, getting pretty close.

A lot of drunken stumbling and too many drinks later, Trott found himself pouring his heart out to the actor about how much he cared about Smith and reminding himself he should probably go home. Before he could get up, the other man mumbled something about how Trott seemed so caring and grabbed him into a sloppy kiss. Trott attempted to pull away but before he could, he heard a heartbroken cry come from next to him.

“What?” came out broken from Smith’s shocked and upset face. 

“No! It’s not what happened!” Trott tried to defend himself, his slurred words not helping his situation as Smith shook his head and left the bar finding himself unable to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

Trott rushed back to their apartment to find Smith packing his bags and tried frantically to explain himself. Any time he tried to speak it just sounded like excuses. Smith was adamant on leaving, or at least “having some time to sort my head out” as he put it.

His sunshine was gone.

\---

Trott’s life without Smith had felt like a dark night with no stars to illuminate it. The night never ended and the sun never rose. He’d tried to not get drunk, to stop himself from ever doing anything like that again, and had managed to get a better paying, permanent job. He still did some filming and editing on the side for some extra money, but he appreciated having a steadier supply.

His new co-workers were planning a night out and invited Trott to come with, originally planning to stay sober and look after everyone else. Things had gotten out of hand and Trott found himself in a cab with a few other drunken friends. He was stumbling over himself on the way out of the car, the stairs leading up to his building not helping. 

Getting inside, Trott collapsed onto the couch and attempted to get out his phone. After avoiding Smith’s social media for months, Trott’s brain was fixated on it and before he knew it, he was scrolling through Instagram looking for something to make him feel better. He hoped for no posts or just standard scenery and outfits but Trott couldn’t help the disappointment when he saw a picture of Smith with his arm around some guy he’d never seen before. Dark, spiked up hair and a similar looking height to Smith, he leant into Smith’s side bearing a huge smile.

Trott’s jealousy took over and before he knew it, he had his phone held up to his ear and was listening to ringing. Was this what he’d been avoiding for months? The possibility that Smith could’ve moved on and was happier? He thought about none of this as the familiar voicemail sounded through his phone, signalling that Smith wasn’t there.

“Hey, uh, it’s me, Chris - I mean Trott. Look, I just miss you ok? I still love you and I know that you might never love me back again but I can’t let myself live like this anymore. I know that you’re happier without me and that you’ve moved on with your life, but I’d give anything for one more day with you. To me you were more than just a pretty smile and I was lucky to have you stay.” A long silence followed as Trott sat, nearly in tears. “I’m sorry, I should go. I’m an idiot.”

\---

Weeks passed and Smith never replied to the voicemail. Between checking his phone for new messages and going to different film sets everyday, Trott was going mad. His new film was with an old friend who he’d met on one of his first film jobs. Barry had been new and Trott hadn’t been very experienced in the film world so they sort of stuck together. Now whenever either of them worked on a film that needed a bit more help, they’d call the other.

“Hey, it’s good to see you mate.” Trott was greeted by a young looking man, maybe around 20 years old, with a tangled mess of black hair on his head.

“Alright, Barry?” Trott said. “Where do you want me?”

“Well we need a bit of help in the props department, just come with me,” Barry gestured over to the set where one man stood arranging bits of furniture. Trott looked in shock over to the set where none other than Alex Smith stood. For the first time in months his heart skipped slightly, a mix of longing to run over and an aching that reminded him why he couldn’t. So instead he took a deep breath and followed Barry, a smile plastered on his face. “Meet Smith, our resident prop hunter.”

Not even looking up from what he was doing, Smith raised a hand to wave as Trott managed to get out a “hello” through his surprise. At this, the other man’s head whipped up.  
“Trott?” Smith asked, confused.

“Hey, Smith,” Trott awkwardly said, lifting his hand in a stilted wave which he quickly dropped. Barry looked back and forth between the two as they tried to avoid each other's gaze but ended up creating tension that hung in the air.

“Right, so I’m gonna need you two to get some more materials for the set. If that’s okay?” he asked. Almost immediately both Trott and Smith started nodding and ensuring that it was fine.

Barry left them alone as he went off to help out some other people. Smith was the first one to make a move, croaking out a “follow me” to Trott and walking out the building’s exit and towards his car. That previous tension lingered around them in the car, filling the silence that neither of them wanted to break. Trott felt embarrassed just being there. What, with the voicemail and the knowledge that Smith had moved on. He wished he’d never even gotten out of bed that morning, it would’ve been less painful.

To break the silence Smith leant over and switched on the radio, letting songs that seemed too happy blast through the car. Unable to bear the tension between them any longer, Trott felt like he needed to say something. “Look, I just need to get this out there. I don’t know if you got that voicemail I left but if you did please just, don’t take any of it seriously. I’m sorry, I was drunk.”

“You don’t need to apologise for that message and I really don’t want to talk about this now. Let’s just get the stuff for the set then you can come over to mine later and we can have a proper talk about it.” Smith offered.

“Great, that would be great,” Trott sighed, relieved that he managed to get through that without wanting to crawl under his seat.

The rest of the car journey had less of that awkward air around it and eventually they got what they needed. After finishing up at the film, Trott headed home to get changed. He was dreading having to face Smith again, however he felt slightly better about their situation than he did earlier. He still didn’t want to have to go. Nothing could change that.

He had to though.

\---

Smith’s apartment was just how he remembered. Still small, with the same furniture and random belongings thrown around. It was different though. Everywhere Smith looked there were hints of someone else.

“Just take a seat over here, the food’s just coming,” Smith said as Trott followed him in.  
“I’m probably gonna be home late, got a lot of work to do but I’ll see you later, ok?” A voice coming from Smith’s bedroom could be heard, followed by the man Trott had seen in the picture online. He grabbed his coat from the back of the bedroom door and walked over to where Smith stood, kissing him on the cheek. Noticing Trott, he gave a quick wave and then left.

Trott suddenly felt quite uncomfortable but what else could he expect? He hurt Smith pretty badly, he was bound to move on. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about?” He asked, desperately trying to break the ice. Smith raised an eyebrow, as if to say that Trott knew what he wanted to talk about. “Like I said, I was drunk and being stupid. I’m fine, we can just pretend like it never happened and just go ba-”

He was cut off by Smith. “I don’t want to pretend that. Yes, I’m dating Ross, but you were still my friend before we dated. I don’t want that to change.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” There was a short pause before Smith continued, sounding slightly ashamed. “Also I know now that what happened wasn’t your fault. I guess, I was too hurt and angry to believe anything else. It was too much at the time but what I’m really saying is that, I’m sorry for not believing you.”

Trott sat in slightly stunned silence for a few seconds. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Smith said, “When you called and left that voicemail you said you were lucky for me to stay. Well, I was lucky to have you too for a while. I’ll be here for you as well. If there’s anything you want to talk about I’m here to listen. Like I said, we can still be friends and it might be weird for a while sure. You’re a great guy though.”

“Thanks, Smith. That really means a lot.” Trott was still shocked at how smoothly that had gone. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Pizza!” Smith shouted as he stood up, heading towards the door.

The two sat for the rest of the night, watching films and eating pizza like they used to. Ross got back and after speaking for a while, Trott could tell that they’d easily get along. He was finally at peace. Sure, Smith was someone else’s sunshine now, but he still brought light back into Trott’s life.


End file.
